Loyalty
by LemonyCreams
Summary: Voldermort has won the war and captured Ron, tortured Hermione and put Harry to death. The only thing Ron is thinking about is why him? Should Ron's loyalty lie with his husband or his values? Warning will contain slash. Previously known as 'Red is the kiss'
1. Chapter 1: More than a casual fuck

**Chapter 1: More than a casual fuck**

Confusion is not an easy emotion to deal with. Confusion was never something that I could deal with. Chaos never was a problem with six other sibling chaos was something I thrived upon. Our small house ensured that all of us were brought up with enough love to fill oceans.

People say that confusion and chaos go hand in hand. I beg to disagree. Chaos, I could handle, there was always order to be found. Little constants that proved that not everything was lost.

Confusion on the other hand had no order and required you to make your own. Right now, I Ronald Billius Weasley am confused.

He kisses me with such care, I almost forget he is not human. I don't know why he chose me. Hermione, Harry are so much more beautiful and smarter than I am. Yet, he chose me. A Weasley brat as Lucuis Malfoy claims me to be.

He makes me forget my worries and fears. His cold hand traces slowly up my arm. A grip that tightens spontaneously and makes me moan. Three months and I'm still not used to his care. The undivided attention he showers me.

I need him like a fire needs oxygen. He is my sun, my moon, my stars, my world. A moment without him would seem like a year. I try to stop these thoughts from conquering my mind. That is a difficult task. He consumes my thoughts.

His hand leaves my arm and wanders lower. He mutters a few quiet words. His red eyes flash with pleasure as my clothes disappear. I make a grab for the blankets to protect what little modesty I have left. He-who-must-not-be-named chuckles at my attempt. I freeze for a moment.

I cannot escape this prison. That much he has assured me of. He walks slowly around me. The wheels of his mind are spinning. I can feel how much he wants to make me scream. I do not know whether it is in pleasure or in pain. It could be both.

"Ronald, remove that blanket," he orders.

I refuse his request silently. The fight has not left me just yet. This is a form of defiance no matter how small or silent the act is. He moves closer and my grip on the blanket tightens.

He drops down onto the bed next to me. With surprising force he turns my body towards his. Minutes later, I am moaning into his mouth begging him for more. This always happens. One minute I have all the self-control I need the next minute, I'm a moaning mess in his arms.

My grip on the blanket does not exist now. A moment later I am straddling him. A motion that has become very familiar to me. He knows what to do to make me give him exactly what he wants. And I cannot deny him for I want him too.

I want to be that moaning mess underneath the blankets. It is moments like these that convince me he is human. The way he stares into my eyes when I come for him and only him. This is life and love.

We change positions and once again he is on top of me. Tonight he wishes to be sweet. The sounds that are drawn from my mouth are those of pleasure. He starts slow, tracing his fingers on every inch of my body. He is focused, determined. He could make me come just like that. My back arches at an impossible angle. My hips rut against his clothed crotch as if trying to get off on any friction possible.

Today he is merciful and does not mind. Instead he encourages it. The words he uses makes me feel loved. Unconditionally loved but he claims he does not know of it. I know better he loves his snake, he admires Grindlewald and even respects Dumbledore. If that isn't the root of love then I don't know what is.

His snake slides onto our bed. For a moment, I forget the passion and freeze in fear. After spiders, the next creature I hate is the snake. The feeling is mutual that much I know. The snake on the bed is a major turn off but still my cock would not deflate. Why? His hands are gripping and pulling. Rubbing my cock as a finger inserts its way in my hole. The pain is still fresh and raw down there. He does not slide his fingers in deep. Just enough to get me stimulated and begging.

Suddenly excruciating pain is accompanied by a tightness in my navel. I want to come but the flippin' man has his two fingers wrapped in an 'o' shape around my cock. He is going to make me beg for release. I'm not that easy, my lord. I was sorted in Gryffindor for a reason. I do not beg. Kiss assing was a Slytherin trait and Gryffindor does not kiss ass.

"You know I can last all night," I stupidly said challenging him. Daring his mind to get me to beg.

I did not have to wait long. I didn't have to know he used an enchantment to feel the effects of the spell. My mouth and nostrils became blocked. I could not breathe let alone speak. I looked at him trying to translate the sheer panic in my eyes.

I believed I had so much to live for I did not want to die. I still believed the The Light had something to fight for. Moine and Harry, Neville, my family, the DA and even crazy Loony I still believed they believe in me. I slowly got up as far as he would allow me. I gently squeezed the arm that held my cock. He just looked expecting more, so he released my breath and bit down hard on my collar bone. I winced as he drew blood.

"Please let me come," I begged as he gently lapped the wound.

"Please what,"

"Please, my lord," I answered back.

Like I said before he was felling merciful today. With a painful and exhausting scream, thick strands of white cum spluttered out.

There were no sweet words just my breath coming out in short puffs and his preparations for bed. Tearing has soul did a number to his body. I barely felt it as the sheets of the bed vanquished around me and were replaced by a thick Weasley quilt.

Nostalgia found its way through my nose. It was as if the whole family was with me on Sunday night. All of us on the biggest sofa in the house trying to keep as much blanket as possible. The wireless in the background with a singer I would never learn to appreciate. I missed those family moments. As I got older Harry and Hermione became part of that picture. Love was never easy but it was so worth it.

He slid down on the opposite side of the bed. The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"I want a family. I want to be the parent my parents were," I said.

His red eyes flew open and he pinned me down on the bed.

"I guess we just have to fuck long and hard enough, no," His eyes glinted with dominance.

A/N: Chapter 1. Tell me if you want an Mpreg or not.


	2. Chapter 2:Broken

**Chapter 2: Broken**

The warm body that pulls me closer and makes me feel loved. My shoulder throbs gently reminding me of unspeakable passion. My face clashes with the red hair. The window flutters gently letting in the softest of breezes. I close my eyes in fascination as I feel the soft kisses of the wind across my skin.

The wind and I go hand in hand. The seemingly destructive force of nature reminds be of the Burrow. A place where no matter how many chores are left to do or how angry mum is there will always be time for quidditch. I gently unwind my Lord's body from my own. God, I love it. I love mumbling that he is mine.

My body aches with a pain that can only be described as delicious. I pull the heaving blankets off my naked skin. I arch my back as my feet touches the floor. The cold of the floor rushes up my soles in order to grab away the warmth of my body.

I let my eyes grow used to the darkness in our room. I walk into a slate grey wall which opens up into a bathroom. First things first I need do get clean. The dried cum still lined my body. Shower that is what I needed brushing my teeth can wait.

After living most of my life in the Burrow scalding hot water during a shower was a luxury. We didn't have enough money to pay for hot water all the time. We only got in one salary at the end of the month. We had to survive with it. I still kept to it. Cold-water showers are something I felt refreshed by.

After allowing the feeling of clean to capture me for a second longer, I begin getting dressed. I prefer muggle clothes. They are easier to wear and more practical for the life I lead. My Lord on the other hand detests them with a passion. I will never understand why. Muggle clothes are brilliant. I saunter across the room with a towel tied to my waist. I rummage through my side of the unnecessarily large closet.

The scars that line my body are easily hidden. The idea was Hermoine's. Horcrux hinting could drain the life out of any man. It is a bleak prospect and without the right ingrediants a near impossible one. It was one of those days. We were at a safe muggle town. It felt brilliant not to wonder around in any disguises.

We got inked that day as a sign of our friendship. The experience was painful but worthwhile. The feeling of accomplishment is rival to none. The tattoo travelled around my back in thick strokes. The quality was not the best but I loved it because it was a testament of my love.

The emotions revolving around Harry and Hermoine seemed to wake me up. I feel the familiar tightness in my chest and I try to control my breathing. The room starts shrinking in and I'm trying to argue with myself to calm down. I sink to the floor and try to take quick calming breaths. The door of the wardrobe is closed but it is soon opened by a violent force.

By now, the tears have started to make their appearance. They just aimlessly rolled down my cheeks. I hated the man I lived with. I hate him so much. He killed my friend and mercilessly tortured the other to the point of insanity. I remember the day even more clearly than I remember how my arachnophobia occurred.

The quick green light that flew across the room as the colour in Harry's face disappeared. Hermoine's child-like state after screaming for relief for hours while being tortured. As cruel, as it sounds she was better off dead now.

The bruises on my skin make me want to scratch my skin off. Was I crazy to think even for a moment that he loved me? This man does not know the meaning of the word. He hurt my friends and family. Is there anything I would do against him?

Slowly I begin rocking back and forth on the floor. I don't know for how long I stay paralysed. Goose flesh dots my skin but I barely feel the cold. My fingers trace the tattoo trying to keep myself calm. I could have been gone for hours or minutes. It really does not matter anymore.

He walked in at this point the famous Weasley anger started sprouting within me.

"I hate you. Do you know that," I snarled snapping my head forward.

He merely looked at me then went back to picking out a set of robes. I know being naked is not threatening at all but I made sure he felt my anger. Waves of anger rolled off my body. It was going to be one of those days. I pulled on a Weasley sweater and an old pair of jeans. He hated seeing me in muggle clothes. I on the other hand could not care less.

I walked out feeling slightly composed. I need to see Hermione. Over the past couple of months, I've become familiar with the building. The solid bars of the dungeon hid Hermoine from the sight of the world.

My friend was not the girl she used to be. This version of her was so scared and broken. I sat down next to the bars and watched my friend sleep. Her body curled up tightly.

My mind was assaulted with images about her. For a long time my thoughts drifted to Hermoine and when we were dating. The first time we had sex and the sweet clumsiness of that moment.

I remember clearly her chocolate eyes that would spark when she was talking about something she was passionate about. Or how she knew when a spell would come out of her wand perfectly. Hermoine was just as arrogant as a Malfoy but she was entitled to the role. I even knew her secret motto to life.

"Don't act if you can't back it up," Hermoine would say.

Now the greatest mind of my generation was tired. Bellatrix messed up her mind in such a way that she could no longer think clearly. But some days I could see the progress she was making like now. I watched silently as her hand flew to solve the Rubix cube. Fingers that were sure of the pieces. I knew Hermione was not gone merely forgotten.

My Lord or not Hermione's life was significantly more important than mine.

A/N: Well we got to see Ron's conflicting feelings. Pop a review and tell me what you think.


	3. Chapter 3: No longer light

Chapter 3: No longer light

I left the dungeon after a low ranking Death Eater came to give her a meal. Her eyes looked at the plate and then shifted away. She would not be eating today. Her fingers quickly shuffled the cube and again she started the same pattern.

The Death Eater did not leave. The last time Hermoine did something like this she ended up torturing her cellmates. That was before Bellatrix had come around to finish the job. However, Hermoine being fed at the present was not my issue. My stomach gently nagged me.

I was starving. The dining hall like most of the castle is made to impress. Torches lit the way to the elaborate but sturdy double doors that swung upon at my touch.

Breakfast was always just him and me. No matter how pressing the issues of the day that was our time. Well our time apart from sleeping together and sex. It was rare that he ever asked me to do something for him. Today was one of these days.

"I need you to come on a raid with me. Be ready by one. Don't argue," my Lord said catching my face.

"No," my voice came out clear.

Our relationship had boundaries about what I would do for him. One of them was raids. I had warned him long ago that I would not come on raids with him. Spreading my legs for him was not a problem but I would not torture people just to satisfy him. I am a Gryffindor not an idiot. I had my pride and part of that pride was not hurting the innocent I could protect.

I prepared to walk out of the dining. He knew exactly what buttons set me off and he loved pushing every one of them. There was a reason our relationship, if one could deem it so, was lasting. We both knew where we stood with each other.

"Get ready, he just said grabbing a piece of toast and spreading blueberry jam on it.

He might be my lord but I grew up answering to my mother. I could not and would not. I pulled a bowl filled with oats. My left hand loosely clasps the simple gold chain on my neck. Each link contains an important person in my life. One from mom, the next one dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George and Ginny. Somehow, it expanded to hold a lot more people that have crept into my heart. Harry and Hermione each added a link, along with Luna's bright blue link that stands out no matter where I place it. My dorm mates at Hogwarts, the DA.

People who have been a strong influence in my life but not a single one from my husband. Right now I cannot bear to think of him. I know I should not fight it. I always give in to him at the end of the day.

I get up from the table and swiftly press a kiss on his cheek. The hands that tangle in my hair bring me lower. I am against having sex on the table I eat at but his lips find mine. My world is content for now. His lips on mine pressing for answers to the side only I am permitted to watch.

With one last tug of his lower lip I move. Many think I am not busy but I run the empire behind the scenes. I keep everyone as happy as possible. A skill I think is the best of my mother and father. The seriousness of mom with the loving nature of dad.

"I have to go," I say snatching one last scone and getting into my office.

My office space was private. No one was allowed in without my permission except the house-elves. Maps of different shades were plastered onto the walls. The territory lines moved as we gained more lad, and respect of different creature nations.

Already service owls were waiting for replies from different dignitaries. I groaned softly today was going to be a long, long day.

By the time it was seven I had barely had anything to eat. My bum and back burned whenever I moved them. I was stiff. I wanted a shower and something with a lot of cheese. Today had been one crises after another. Two emergency fire-calls to Lucuis, whom I hate, and an emergency press conference about were-wolf and vampire territories. Today had also given me a throbbing headache.

There was only so much I could handle without my body telling me to stop. It was seven and I still had stacks of paperwork. By seven thirty, I was at the point of giving up. I had to switch to glasses because my eyesight was getting funny.

Twelve and there was no hope of finishing even if I worked all night. Merlin, why did all my problems seem to get dumped on me in one day. There was still the raid. It was too late to bother with a shower or anything.

Raids usually started at one. A time of day when only the insane felt safe. I slipped the black robe around my body. The plain black mask covers half my face. I am still recognised by the Weasley features that remind me who I am. The red hair, freckles and a body that is more muscle than anything else.

I walk into the meeting room. Just in time as in complete unison the mass of black robes become quiet and bow down deeply. The power he radiates is dark and intoxicating. Hermoine once taught me the strength behind spells was feeling the magic used to cast them. It was what made her a good witch. The fact that she felt every strand of magic had only increased her magic potential and awareness.

I watched as my husband roused the crowd. He was a charmer and they loved him for it. My cock tightened at the sheer beauty of my husband when he welded power. He dismissed the crowd and told them to wait for his go.

I stayed back. My eyes I was sure were clouded with lust over his tall, thin body. The snake-like face and red eyes did not disturb me. I walked towards him removing my mask in the process. The rooms of the door closed with his magic. Ensuring us both that no one would enter our moment of simple peace.

Today as much as I wanted to be connected with him in the most primal way possible I held back. He made a million emotions run through my mind but each emotion had him as the focus point. He runs his long fingers through my red hair and over my shoulder before grabbing the back of my head and smashing our lips together. I wanted to pleasure him today. With something I had never done before because I wanted to. In a way it was to say that he was mine. Bellatrix was clinging far too much on my Lord. I never pegged my husband as a cheater but just to make sure.

My hands explored his neck and dipped under his shirt messaging out the knots that I knew plagued him. I could not resist as his lips left mine. Without missing a beat he bit over and over at the mark he had given me earlier in the week. The sensation was an overload on my senses as I moved my hands from his neck to grab his waist and with the skill that only came with practice I opened up the lower half of his robes.

The black boxers hid nothing as I sunk down on my knees. The cold from the stone provided some discomfort but the smell of his arousal hit me with such force that little else mattered. I hooked my fingers on the elastic that kept his boxers up. I heard him mumble a spell to get me naked. To me his cock would always seem large.

"Are you even thinking," he murmured as I kissed his growing bulge over the boxers.

I suck it and tease it. Letting him for once enjoy the sensation of the blowjob I am willingly giving him. He is not making me enjoy this but surprisingly I do anyway. I am getting used to the way he prefers to support my head during one of these sessions. Or the way he prefers to sit down on his throne. He does as he grabs me by my shoulders and forcefully makes me stand up. I growl at the pain he is causing me but try and curb my anger. This is something I asked for.

He sits down on his throne and pushes me face down to his crotch. I could not tease forever besides there was work to be done. I pulled down the boxers and watch with quiet satisfaction at the way his cock springs up as it is set free.

Suddenly I am starting to think that this is a bad idea. The smell of his scent and the gaze of his eyes patiently waiting for me to please him. I look at him and as our eyes lock I know that he would do everything possible to never hurt me.

I slowly start the process. Letting my tongue taste the saltiness of the pre-cum. Nit a taste that I minded but didn't particularly like. But it was him in his purest form possible. I close my eyes as he leans forward and gently tangles my thick red hair with his fingers. I allow him to take the lead as my mouth starts its descent on his rock hard dick. He groans with pleasure. I try and take in as much as possible but that is not very much. I pulled out. I was going to deep throat him by the end of the night. I needed my vocal cords to be damaged to remind him that he is mine. I suck in gently before pulling out again. It was all or nothing. I concentrated as I began to try and deep throat him. Ignoring any gag reflex that threatened me with single-minded determination.

I pulled out with his hep. I needed a break. This deep throating business was not as easy as it looked in the stack of muggle porn Dean had brought to Hogwarts. I licked his cock with small delicate licks as I gained my breathe. I looked into his eyes and with another nod I indicated I was ready to try again.

My inexperience and insecurity about this whole experience was what made it most amusing in the years to come. I remember the gentle way he guided my head. Teaching me in his own way what made him the most excited. That night he was patient with my inexperience and rectified it. With one last try I managed to get everything in. My hand massaged his balls and he began to hold my head firmly in place and rock back and forth. The speed increased as he gained more and more control. Finally, he came in my mouth with a hiss. The Dark Lord did not yell even in the throes of passion. It was not dignified at all.

After a moment of rest and a glass of water, the clock struck one. It was time for the raids to begin. It was time for me to shed my coat of light.

A/N: This chapter took about a month to write.


	4. Chapter 4: The start of a family

**Chapter 4: The start of a Family**

Living in Burrow meant never a dull day. That's what I wanted. I wanted to be a father to a bunch of adorable red-heads. With cute freckles. I would teach them quiddich and how to play chess. Looking down at my life with a critical eye has forced me to re-evaluate this need.

I don't think I can handle an empire and kids. No matter how adorable they are. I watch as the night sky tells me a story in smudged black. There was always hope and it sickened me that I was destroying it. I watched my husband who was on the ground.

We could have done a mass apparition and got this over with quickly but nope, my husband loved his theatrics. The village was a tiny one. A typical farming community struggling to survive. Even if there was no method to our madness there were still a few thing I would not allow the Death Eaters to do.

No child was to be harmed. It was the only rule I set for them. I remembered the stories Ginny and Neville shared about the torture the Carrow's put them through. Children might be able to rebel but they are still innocent. In this world I have helped create I need to preserve any innocence left on it.

My mask clings onto my face. Hiding the world from my face. The park is old and tired but I can sense the happiness that radiates from the old swing sets. This is the centre of this homely little town. My wand crackled and I inhaled the smell of barely restrained magic.

My husband grabs my hips and draws me closer. The unspoken message is clear and I understand him perfectly. When on raids we take different teams. I take the junior bunch and I let my husband and inner circle tear-up the town.

As much as its for their safety it's for our own as well. When his on his own I don't need to worry about him. In this situation ignorance is bliss. The sound of magic versus innovation filled the air. Muggles might have guns but we had something stronger on our side.

I didn't blink as I almost carelessly threw another killing curse. My mind was too numb and tired to think up more inventive ways to kill. Fenrir to my left was fighting a girl. Her body moved with fear. Sparks travelled across her skin. She could not be more than thirteen. Waves of magic rolled off her body. The semi-control she had was enough.

She knew what to do with it and I watched her indicating for my squad to go on without me. The fear in her eyes had almost disappeared instead a primal need to survive took over. The fight or flight response was chosen and she planned to fight. She turned a perfect pivot. Her stance was that of a world-class dueller.

It held potential and talent. From across the arena I saw my husband stop to watch. I knew he could feel it. The conflict in his red eyes was something only I had learnt to see. He wanted to save her but he was repulsed at her blood. I did nothing it was his choice now that he had seen. She held up her own. I don't think she knew how powerful her magic was.

The air around her tasted of magic. Living with my husband had taught me certain things about magic. Its not all about waving a wand and throwing a couple of spells at the nearest target or victim. Magic was a living, breathing entity. A concept this girl seemed to understand.

I could see her body getting weak as the spurts of raw magic became more and more spontaneous. Her face became shiny as the sweat clung to her skin as the salty droplets rained down her face. I knew her death was something I could not avoid watching.

She was soon overpowered. Her scream of frustration and pain echoed in the air. Fenrir crushed her against one of the rock formations she had brought up from the earth around us. The weight of his body as well as the jaggared pieces of rock did a number on her back. The shoulder of the cotton shirt fell off. Even from this distance I see the Rosier birthmark. An angry patch of red skin that formed a perfect star.

"Stop," I yell at Fenrir.

His eyes widen in confusion but he dare not disobey me. He has already broken my only rule. I met not be the Dark Lord but I was just as cruel as Bellatrix when I wanted to be. She looked at me gratefully and then with hurt. I don't blame the young girl. In her eyes I was her enemy. I looked at my husband before I threw my wand at him.

I took off the robes. Underneath my robes was a pair of blue jeans and a tank top. I was unarmed. Her eyes looked into mine and I could see the distrust in them I did not blame her. I would have reacted in the same fashion.

She looked exhausted. She struggled to keep her eyes open. I sat down and talked to her. Surrounded by battle and blood but none of it affected our little bubble. I learnt a lot about her. Not great details but she barely said a word. Her arms were wrapped around her knees. She pulled herself into a tiny ball and did not draw herself out again. Al I did was rub-soothing circles on her back. She did no trust me but soon she leaned in.

Her head rested on my shoulders. I could smell the cheap, clinical smell of soap and shampoo. I stroked her hair. She snuggled right up to me. I could hear my husband grind his teeth in anger but I paid him no mind. I saw so much in this girl. But most of all I see Hermione. The same brown features. A mop of mane-like hair.

I sifted through the thoughts in her mind. I did not see much but one thing was certain she was a Granger.

A/N: Sorry for the delay and shortness. Thank you to all who read, reviewed, favourite and followed.


	5. Chapter 5: A hard day's night

**Chapter 5: A hard day's night**

The girl in my arms clung around my neck a little closer. Her wild brown hair was pulled out of her face into a tight ponytail. The little girl was so innocent. I loved children and so loving her would be no problem for me.

My husband on the other hand was livid. He merely glared at her. I knew he was jealous. He thought I would replace him with the Hermoine look alike. I tried not to become offended. If anything, I would be faithful to him until my dying breathes because that is how much I vowed to love him.

It was early the next morning. One of the house-elves popped in front of me with a mug of steaming hot chocolate. My favourite drink after nights like this one, the calming smell of cocoa and cream was exactly what I needed.

I shift the little girl, Sarah, trying as hard a possible not to wake her up. I took the offered mug and drank deeply. The taste was perfect and warmed me up from the inside out. I was worried about Sarah though. A quick look at her mind was not pleasant. Coming from a home that was stable in emotional and mental comforts, I could not begin to think how this girl's mother acted the way she did. I know for a fact that her mother had been killed during the raids. I had personally seen to the woman's demise. Sarah's mother was a brilliant woman.

That much was clear. She was powerful and men loved her for it. She loved the men back. One by one men flew in and out of Sarah's life and that was not healthy at all. Now that I think of it all I remember, Hermione telling me about her sisters was that they were both much older than she was and because of this, she did not get along with either of them. I think this was one of the reasons. There was no other way to put it. A fact printed on white parchment with black ink and sealed by Knowledge herself. Hermione was a prude.

Voldemort grabs my waist and I gently hand over Sarah to him. With quick, brisk strides, he finds the guestroom nearest to our bedroom. By now, I have finished my hot chocolate and all I need is a good fuck. The blowjob barely provided any satisfaction.

I cast a quick cleaning spell on the room and then throw open the covers. I take Sarah into my hands and then lay her gently down onto the bed.

"Good night my angel," I whisper kissing her forehead gently.

I make sure she is tucked in and the room was warm enough before I cast charms to darken the room. Tonight had been long. Well it was not going to end any time soon. Voldemort was not pleased with my choice but he could just suck it up. Especially when he saw what I had planned for him.

He waited for me by the door of the bedroom. His crimson eyes were full of questions that I would answer soon enough. I smiled at him and neither of us were willing to break the silence. I leaned up and pressed my lips softly against his. I shivered at the sensation that such a simple act brought me.

He smirked and grabbed my hands with a little more force than needed. He would have his wicked way with me tonight and frankly, I did not give a damn. My body ached with need and all over, I felt sweaty and hot. My cock strained against the fabric that covered it. The moment the door closed, I rubbed against him a low moan of frustration leaving my mouth as I did so.

"I love you," I murmured against his throat.

The heat of the fire had nothing to do with the uncomfortable warmth I was feeling.

"Two hours, do you think it is worth it?" he asked.

Two hours until the day began again. Only two hours of sleep was what I would have but I wanted him more. I wanted him buried deep inside of me. I wanted his mark all over my neck. I wanted to feel the burn up my spine every time I moved. I wanted to be connected with him but most of all I wanted him.

"Yes, take me now," I demanded.

He smiled and lay on the bed propped up by a headboard and pillows.

"Strip," was his only command.

I took my sweet time. I bit my lip, forcing the blood to run up and redden it. I gently ran my hands down and up my robes a couple of times. I loved teasing him. I loved knowing that the hardness of his erection was all my doing.

I slowly removed my mask. The freckles on my skin and the blush that graced my face were the same colour. Next item that slid off my body was the heavy outer robe. My fingers fumbled around the million fastenings that kept the robe in place as I fought. I just threw it off before I was tempted to cut it off with a Severing Charm.

This left me wearing an old pair of blue jeans and a plain Weird Sister shirt from my innocent years. I moved to the drawer and pulled out a tube of oil and condoms. There was no way in heaven or hell that I would have sex without those two and he knew why.

I took of my shirt. The warm wind hit my chest and even through the heat caused goose flesh. The strong thick lines of my tribal tattoo could be clearly seen even with such dim lighting. My nipples hardened and I groaned again. I barely could hear the thoughts he so carefully guarded but one kept playing in my head over and over again.

His hushed whispers of how much he loved me. How long he would spend worshiping my body. The low almost serpentine quality of his hisses at the barbell through my naval drives me crazy with last.

That piercing was my first one ever and will probably be my last. The care it took was incredible but overall I love it. A gag gift from Hermione and Harry for my eighteenth birthday. We waltzed into a piercing store after I expressed the wish of getting one. Choosing a place for the piercing was the most difficult part. It could not be anywhere too visible or hinder our movement at all.

The piercing hurt and taking care of it was a pain. Now it is part of everyday life. A piece of metal through my belly button is worth it just to see the look on his face. I lean forward and rest on the edge of the bed so I can kiss him.

A peck turns into a tongue war. His tongue is in my mouth and I could not stop him from plundering it. I shudder under him as he twists us over with him on top. I do not bother with removing his robes gently but rather gather enough strength to hiss a spell. Moments later his robe is in rips exposing to me his skin which was as pale as Death himself.

The next few moments did not surprise me anymore. The tugging off pants. Our mouths crashing together over and over again. Then how the pace would suddenly slow down until I could feel his teeth clamp onto my skin and leave a mark.

I lost myself in the feeling of sex after that. The rough rhythm had been set. His finger playing with my nipples as he pinched, sucked and bit until they became hard. I could not stop moaning. He threw a bottle of lubricant my way. A spell would have worked just as well but we had time.

I squirted the cold liquid and propped myself up on the pillows. I rubbed a bit of the liquid between my fingers. I reached down below and my spine seized up at the intrusion. I breathed heavily, one finger up my arse always felt the most uncomfortable. Try as I might I was rarely ever comfortable in the beginning of sex.

I was never ready for someone to just stare at me. I was too used to being in the background. His gaze on me never wavered. At least he never expected me to ride him. My breath quickened as I curled that single finger.

It was almost enough to drive me to the edge of passion. I closed my eyes and inserted a second finger. The tight squeeze was never the most comfortable experience. I arched my back as my fingers managed to rub gently over my prostrate. The slowness of stretching always got to me but I tried as far as possible to do it properly. I did not want to be in unbearable pain the next morning. A burn I could handle but the last time I did not stretch properly, I ended up being unable to move for days.

However, today I needed him within me as fast as possible. I slipped my fingers out feeling empty but only for a moment. I felt my shoulders being pressed back onto the pillows. The tiny butterfly kisses that were placed along my neck. Those distracted me for a moment. He is not gentle about taking me and seconds later, his cock rams right up. I scream as the unholy mixture of pleasure and pain take over.

"Thank me for it," he says. He loved making desperate.

He teased me by rolling his hips slightly. I whined and tried to push back desperate for any friction. I flipped us over. This time I was on top. I slowly began to ride him. It felt perfect. It was the only way to describe this feeling. The utter perfection of his cock inside me as I set my own rhythm. One of my hands was against the headboard so I could keep my balance and the other on my cock as I pumped it gently.

My eyes rolled back with the pleasure but all I wanted to do was go faster. Over and over again I hit my prostrate and tiny screams fell from my mouth. I was on cloud nine. Then he flipped as over and pounded me into completion.

We never really talked during sex. But I grabbed the sheets and screamed as I came to completion. My vision blacked out for a moment before returning long enough for my husband to come all over my chest and stomach.

"I. Love. You," I said punctuating each word with a kiss.

My lips were bruised and my body was dog-dead tired but I felt loved and complete. I kissed him one last time before I slid out of the bed. I needed a shower before the cum dried onto my body.

The bathroom soon filled with steam and shower gels. A pleasant scent that relaxed my body. My Lord very soon came to join me but we rarely had sex in the shower and I knew we would not have any for a while. Our life was like that now. Both of us felt way passed the honeymoon stage where we felt we had to christen every surface in the house. Sex was nice, well beyond nice, it was lovely every once in a while.

The hickeys that lined my neck were another story. I guess I would have to slap on some concealar tomorrow. It was not the fact that I did not love his mark on me but I would rather not get attacked by Bellatrix or have some foreign embassy stare at it. Those marks were mine and mine alone.

"What about the girl?" he asked me as we changed the sheets of the bed.

"I don't know. She is a Rosier but I also know for a fact that Hermione's sister was the one that carried and looked after her. What I cannot seem to figure out is how much control she has over her magic. It is even better than most Death Eaters when they were her age," I wondered aloud.

My head rested on his chest and I heard the gentle beating of his heart.

"We'll look at it tomorrow. I wonder why Rosier did not do anything about the girl though."

I hummed in agreement. It was not uncommon for a man or woman to have half-blood children. But to leave them and forget about them was another story. My mind slowly started drifting off to sleep even though I could not afford the rest right now. Before I could even catch five more minutes. A gentle knock disturbed me.

It was one of our house-elf with breakfast. Another day in my life had just begun. For some reason I was just damn grateful for it.

* * *

**A/N: Tell me what you guys think and what you want in this story.**


	6. Chapter 6: Restless thoughts

**Chapter 6: Restless thoughts**

I never knew how much trouble my parents went through raising me and keeping a relationship with each other. It had only been a day with Sarah but instead of my thoughts revolving around my husband they now had my daughter. It still felt weird to say that.

That, Sarah was now my daughter. Well, not yet but it felt like that. Her body is still resting from the attack. With the amount of magic she had released that was understandable. The little to no control of large amounts of magic can be draining on the body.

I waved my wand to the curtains to let some light in. Draco was with me. He had grown into a gorgeous man. I would never say that to his face. Draco had an intense look of concentration as he poured some Replenishing Potion down Sarah's throat.

"How's she doing?" I ask. I try but fail to keep the worry out of my voice.

"She is doing fine. It is expected. Right now the only thing that is keeping this girl alive is the Rosier blood pumping through her veins," Draco informed me.

I bite my lower lip in worry. Rosier blood is exceptionally powerful because of the healing properties of that linage. Not many people knew that each pureblood family has a set of developed blood skills. It differs from branch to branch but it is present in every person. It also makes it easy for the negative aspects in each line to come out with more prominence in each generation. Like the elusive "Black Madness" a curse that falls on every person from the main branch of the family.

As much as my family were blood-traitors we still fell in line with the pacts of all pure-blood families. We held two seats during every session of Wizgamort. Not as much as some other families but the seats were old ones and therefore they held some value. With all my family dead, those seats were my responsibility. The Prewett seat as well as the Weasley seat still held some power.

But now was not the time for my brain to shift into politics.

"Stop worrying Weasley," Malfoy said.

"How can I not? There is a kid who is in danger of losing her life because of a careless raid," I question back.

"Is it because she looks so much like her?" Draco had hit the nail.

I could not answer him. Maybe yes or maybe not. I do not know. All I could question is what to do to decrease the chances of something like this from ever happening again. Children are not supposed to be the victims of war that they usually turn out to be.

It is my duty to the Light. That part of me is still light. No matter how tainted I become by the darkness that consumes me, I have to make sure I still uphold the standards of Light.

"I need to visit Hermione. Do you have anything I need to take down?" I ask Draco.

"Yes, just some nutrient potion. Granger is not eating again," Draco says handing me the potion.

The worry for Hermione returns in full force. Harry was the one who kept us sane. Who made sure that Hermione and I actually gelled together. Without Harry I can feel everything slowly unravelling. My morals and values are no more.

I walk out the door and make the long journey to the dungeon. There is still the lone Death Eater on guard. He is one of the newer recruits. He does not seem scared of Hermione but rather curious. He does not notice as I walk in even though I walk briskly with a steady staccato hitting the cold stone floor.

"There are three major Wizard factions: Light, Dark and Neutral. The most strongest naturally is the Dark faction, the hardest to obtain is the Neutral," Hermione says.

She sounds sane for a few moments and I know it is fleeting. A couple of minutes like this and then she turns back into something uncontrollable.

"A wizard has a choice. Dark magic has it's basis in the Earth while Light in the Air. In the theory paper proposed by Miranda Glessor there is a clear definition that pure neutrality of magic can only be reached by mu-" her voice cracks.

It is lost. The sanity disappears and the young man looks distraught. Finally, he notices me and bows low. I ignore him in favour of taking a hard look at Hermione. She is now mumbling quietly to herself. There is no sense in her words. It looks like she has been sane for a while. Her hair is thrown into a rough pony and the room looks like it's been clean.

"Make sure she gets some of this in her system," I order the young Death Eater.

He nods but makes no attempt at conversation. The bags on his young face is clear. He is too tired to even do more than that. Which is unusual. The shift here are done in six hours.

"What is wrong?" I ask.

He looks at me shocked. I am not known for speaking to many Death Eaters. "Nothing at all, my Lord," he says.

I restrain a frustrated growl. "When were you meant to be relieved from your shift?"

"Four hours ago," he says.

"Name and rank."

"Septimus Lestrange, white," he says. By now he is quaking in his boots.

I do not lose my cool for a moment. He is the son of Bellatrix Lestrange. I worked with her and tore up the whole of England before we found him. I cannot see the Black in him at all or the Lestrange. Instead, he looks like the image of the innocent. I know for a fact that he does not have a cruel bone in his body and magically he is average.

"Go, you look like you need sleep," I say.

He tries to protest but I give him a pointed look. I knew there was no point going to work now. I would get more done later on in the night. My husband was busy as well so even if I did want to go to sleep it would be lonely.

What? Our unnecessarily large bed is always cold and warming charms do not cut it for me. I take the potion back and gently push him towards the exits. Septimus once again bows low before running off.

Even though he was born in Azkaban he is one of the most happiest people in this whole spiel.

"Is he gone?" Hermione asks sane again.

"Ya."

"He's a good kid. Can I please get my potion."

"Not before you actually eat something," I say.

"Then I'll starve," Hermione, argues.

I am torn about what to do. I know Hermione is very willed. It was one of the qualities that made me fall in love with her.

"Never mind," with that she stared off into space.

Soon the two hours fly by and the next Death Eater comes in. This time it is Bellatrix herself. I walk away and leave Hermione in the hands of her torturer.

That night I worked only until eleven. I had a lot more work to finish but I could no longer concentrate. An owl swooped in through my open window. It dropped a note that said:

_Come to bed_

Maybe it was time to call it a night. I extinguish the fire and wave my wand to re-arrange the paperwork. I appreciate the fact that he gave me the space to get ready instead of bursting into my office.

"Jabber," I call.

Immediately a house-elf shows up.

"Can you get rid of dinner and get the office ready for tomorrow?" I ask. Years of hearing tirades of S.P.E.W. have caused me to watch the way I deal with house-elves.

"Jabber is most pleased to be helping Lord."

I give up trying to make them address me by my first name.

"Thank you."

I feel like I have sorted out things at the office. I can finally go to my husband. I check on Sarah only to see that she has not even stirred.

I make my way to my bedroom. The moment I open the front door my lips are attacked. The furious pace is not for sex but rather for a good snogging. I feel my body being manipulated and turned around away from the door and onto the bed. His lips are sending messages through mine.

"Mine," he growls.

And I smile and answer back, "All yours."

"And don't you forget it Ronald."

His lips open slightly and I reciprocate. The pace takes a more gentle turn as his tongue slips into my mouth. The slow, casualness gives me goose-flesh. This life I lead is worth every struggle just to get a few moments like this.

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait but this chapter only wrote itself out today. **


	7. Chapter 7: Stresses of a Life Lived

Chapter 7: Stresses of a Life Lived

This morning was like any other in my life this week. Sarah had managed to find herself in our bed every night. Ever since she was well enough to walk she would sneak into our bedroom.

Her huge brown eyes were hard to resist and I couldn't help but say yes. Because of that my sex life was suffering but at this moment I could not care less. I was too stressed to think about sex.

The negotiating season was in full swing and I hated this more than any other. I had difficulty dealing with people. It was not my forte but maintaining the delicate balance between the magical creatures was essential.

I rolled off the bed. My pyjamas crumpled and I still looked like I had barely gotten any sleep. I turned to find my husband gone. The sound of the shower reminded me he was close enough for me to know he was safe.

I gently covered Sarah with the blankets before I made my way to the bathroom. He was still using the shower and had been there for a while if the fogging in there was any indication. I fumbled around for my toothbrush.

I remembered today was Hermoine's birthday. I should probably go down and spend some time with her. It didn't matter if I went when she was awake or asleep. She would barely know I was there anyway.

I got brushing. There were spells invented for this but I preferred the manual way. It gave me some time to kill. Still there was no indication he was going to get out of the shower anytime soon.

"Hey, I need you to get a move on," I yelled. "Five minutes then I'm spelling your arse out of there!"

I needed to shower. Did he have no pity? I had to deal with Lucius and the whole negotiation entourage which was full of slimy-snakes. I had to admit they were good at what they did.

I peeked out door carefully to check on Sarah, she was still asleep. I was happy that she was asleep without the Dreamless Sleep potion they had her on the last couple of weeks.

My husband still did not move out of the bathroom. Through the dark frosted glass I could see nothing apart from a dark outline. It was not easy, but he had to go.

I stripped my clothes and dumped it into the basket for the house-elves to collect. I was too tired to deal with this nonsense. I ripped open the shower panel and got in.

He turned to face me, looking quite annoyed as he did so. I raised my eyebrows and he did not bite back. I reached past him to turn the water setting cold. I had to be awake for this meeting no matter what.

One the water was satisfyingly cold I started to lather myself with soap only to find the water getting hot again. I glared at my husband. Couldn't he see I was already stressed?

"Calm down. Ronald," he insisted.

"Calm down, you want me to calm down!" I was reaching the point of hysteria. There was no way I could calm the fuck down!

I think he did the next best thing. He turned my body to his and pressed a kiss on my cheek and then softly came down to my lips. There was no pressure in the kiss. And damn it was the best kiss I had in weeks.

"You'll be fine," he said.

I glared at him again. I was not him, I could not force a person to listen to what was best for them through underhanded techniques.

I was a Gryffindor damn it. I used little subtly as possible to get to my mean. I was no good at this face to face communication nonsense. This is why I stayed in my office planning out the strategies needed. I was poor at execution.

He pulled me out of my thoughts by getting out of the shower. That gave me the space I needed to shower in peace as I lost myself in my own thoughts. It was easier this way. Not because sex in the shower was not good but because I was just exhausted from all of this. I cannot seem to emphasise how stressed I've become.

I get out of the shower and grab and old maroon Weasley bathrobe. The edges are frayed but right now I am looking for comfort and not style. I needed to get myself into a state of calm.

I got out of the bathroom and walked across our expansive room into the changing area. My husband was there in a pair of black boxers. He laid out my set of robes for today. A soft set of pastel green and blue's. Today the negotiations with the merfolk was starting.

"Thank you. Can you please check on Sarah?" I asked him.

He nodded in agreement and set out getting changed into a muggle suit. He was going to have a long day as well. Campaigning for Prime Minister in the muggle world. Even with the snake face, he was still charming as ever.

I stopped my thoughts for a second until I found the orange Chudley Cannon boxers. I think he sensed my distress. I admit I was not hiding it very well and it was splayed all over my face.

"Just breathe, Ronald. Nothing bad will happen and you know it," he tried to reassure me.

I was too tied up in my own thinking to even acknowledge him. I was going through statistics and certain points that needed to be emphasised in today's meeting.

My fingers fumbled as I put on my robes. He couldn't stand the sight any longer and spelled the rest of my clothes on me. I was like this every time new negotiations started. Nervous and scared I will screw up.

"Stop worrying and look into your upper, left hand drawer. I'm checking on Sarah."

With that he walked out as cool as a cucumber. I just ran a brush through my hair and made sure that the tops of my tattoo was covered with glamours. That was a private part of me and not everyone needed to see it.

I opened the drawer and inside was a small jewellery box. The feel told me that whatever was inside was goblin made and surely expensive. That made me feel a little guilty. Having whatever I could afford was nice but gifts like this one still got getting used to.

Inside nestled between a green velvet cushion was a locket. It was egg shaped and two gold links protruded on either side. Inside on the left hand side was an inscription. My favourite from a muggle movie Hermoine and Harry made me watch. It said:_ Ohana means family; and family means no one gets left behind. _The writing was in bold strong letters. On the right hand side four magical pictures floated by. One after the other. The first one held the image of my Lord and me right after our bonding ceremony. The second one was a picture of the whole Weasley Clan. The picture that followed it was with Hermoine, Harry and myself during our last days at Hogwarts. Finally a picture of Sarah staring into outer space with a vacant smile on her lips.

It was easily the most beautiful thing I had been given. It came only second to my bondage ring. A ring of plain silver. It had no detailing.

I practically ran to the bedroom with the locket still in my hand. A wonderful sight greeted my eyes and I could not help but give a full smile. The moment was just too precious. Sarah was talking to my Lord about her dreams.

I knew it took a lot for her to do that but he gave her his undivided attention. It just made my heart swell. No matter how many people tell me that he is cruel and insane. I know there is a little bit of humanity inside of him and that will never disappear.

"Thank you so much," I said giving him a hug.

Sarah looks and me and lifts up her arms for a hug too. I gladly give it to her. She needed a bit more positive energy in her life.

"Can you add it on for me?" I ask, holding the piece of gold out.

He just mumbles a spell. A second the necklace goes hot and finally it attaches itself to the piece of jewellery. I check the clock in the room. There is just enough time to visit Hermoine.

"I'm going down to the dungeons for a second," the moment those words slip out of my mouth his eyes darken.

He looks onto my exposed neck and I know what he is looking for. I have no marks on me that tell Hermoine that I am his. Fuck, this the last thing my best friend needs is me walking in there looking like a branded piece of cattle.

"Don't you dare," I warn him.

It is too late. He lunges across the bed and attacks my lips. His teeth cluttering against mine as he sets a furious pace that I struggle to keep up with. I try to push him off because Sarah is in the room but he carries on. I take a peek at Sarah only to realise that she is ignoring the snog-fest in favour of going to the bathroom.

As we release for air, his lips attaches to my neck. He bites, nips and sucks. Alternating between painfulness that borderlines torture and a gentleness that even I cannot put into words.

"Let, ah, mm…" I gave up. There was no way I could think like this.

Once he was satisfied, he let go and smirked at his handy work. My red hair was a mess again. But a quick glance at a mirror on the way to the dungeons told me I looked thoroughly debauched.

The guard says nothing as I dismiss him. I swung my way down to the kitchens and grab a dainty cupcake and a single candle. Everyone deserves cake on their birthday. Even if I wasn't allowed to do much I had to do with what I could give. There was no excuses.

"Happy Birthday 'Mione,"I said lighting the candle.

She smiled as she blew it out. Her face filled with pure joy as she took a huge bite into the Apple-Crumble Cupcake. It was a personal favourite of hers.

"So anything interesting happened on the outside?" she asked.

"Yea, I have a girl, her name is Sarah Granger," I said. I was scared at what Hermoine was thinking.

She had a calculated gaze. She was more than conscious at this point. Even I could tell you that.

"Is it safe for her?" Hermoine asked.

I looked at her shocked. How dare she suggest I would harm a child like that? Even after all that happened she still read me like a book. She threw me an apologetic look and her eyes glazed over. She was once again lost. I took a vial out of my robes and tipped it into her mouth. It held a few drops of my blood. Hightened physical strength, the blood-skill the Prewett side of my family gave.

There was a reason why my mom had survived so many births without an issue. It was because of this. It allowed up better reflexes and pure strength hence the great Quidditch players my family was famed for producing. Right now Hermoine needed as much strength as possible to get better.

I looked at my watch. I had to leave now. I went to the dining hall and planted a kiss on Sarah's cheek. Lovingly pecked my husband's buttery lips and swallowed a bowl full of porridge.

I mumbled a few spells and practically ran to the reception area where the team was waiting. Another day at work. It had barely started and already I was missing the comfort of my husband's arms and my daughters smile.

**A/N: Any thoughts at all?**


	8. Chapter 8: A Father's Love

A/N: I switch tense close to the end. Sorry

**Chapter 8: A Father's Love**

The negotiation room is huge and intimating. It is the image we want to impose on anyone who even walks into this room. It is a room of absolute power and not anyone can walk inside its walls.

There is a table and chairs set that is stained darkly. The grand windows on the west side lead onto a balcony that oversees the forest.

The Meeting Room at Malfoy Manor is something to behold. It mixes pomp and show with practicality best of all I like it and the power that it gives me. I have complete control here. This is my domain and I am in charge of what happens inside these walls.

It is not a bad thing. It is not here that we stop today. I grab pieces of parchment from the desk. It is filled with notes that I have to remember for the next set of meetings. No matter how much I curse the slimy Slytherins they are quite useful when the situation calls for it.

We make our way to the lake and I hold my breath in silence. There is not much more I can do in the situation. The nerves and knots in my stomach make themselves known. I hate it. I hope it does not show on my face.

The smooth surface of crystal blue water is still. Any moment now. I count… waiting and watching. My concentration is placed solely on the surface. I am not disappointed.

At first, there is absolute silence. Not even a ripple disturbs the surface. Slowly and gracefully, ripples erupt on the once clear surface. Then I see them and it is a remarkable sight.

Merfolk are not the prettiest of creatures that run about this earth. There is something about them though. Something… I can only describe as ethereal. The complete unison in which the group comes up is something I wish any man to gaze upon. It is perfect.

They know they are one and so they act as one. The Cheftian, a man with scales leading up to his muscular torso and a very elaborate headdress, meets me where the land meets the water. Around me the blue-green robe bellows and gets drenched. That is trivial.

I give a deep bow. In order for respect to be given; one must learn to respect all. He looks at me with a condescending gaze but I barely falter. It is my place to secure this deal. Not only for the safety of my people but for the safety of theirs and the muggles.

The conversation takes place in their native language. I place translation spells around the area. It is a useful invention my husband came up with. It saves time on having to learn many languages.

The meeting is unlike any others. For one thing there is no table between the two parties. Instead we stand and talk. We talk where land meets sea ad there is a marriage of the two. It is safe, neutral ground.

My part is merely that of an observer. I look only to make sure that the deal is going where it should. Over-fishing by the muggles is a problem. Such a huge problem that the merfolk have now taken it upon themselves to protect the oceans of the world.

They do not understand that this draws the attention the World of Magic does not need yet. There will be a time when they do know we exit but not now. It is too soon. "Magic over might" is a saying that the merfolk take quite seriously. I cannot and would not fault them for trying to take it into their own hands.

The last bit of the agenda is what froze my heart. I can feel the moments stop as they state their almost impossible request. I have never deemed anything beyond possible but for this once I want to scream in blind fury.

"Septimus Lestrange, he is half mer. The boy does not belong to you," the chief states.

I look up and stare into the expressionless and cold back eyes. I try to hold back the tremble that hovers down my spine. I know there is no way I will allow this to happen.

"No," I say. My voice, I make sure, is loud and clear. It travels around the area with authority.

I feel the magic of employees tighten around me. The magic press around me and demand for me to keep my silence. I will not. Septimus is the only person Hermione communicates with. He is a good child although weak in magic, he holds something I do not see, even in my own daughter. He holds innocence, pure and clean.

I remember clearly that day we went to go rescue him from his adoptive parents. Septimus was hugging his adoptive siblings one last time. The tears in his brown eyes refused to fade but instead fell stronger and faster. His muggle girlfriend kept asking why he was leaving her. All he did was give her a weak smile and one last brush across her cheeks.

I remember holding Bellatrix back. I forbid her to curse her son's adoptive family. They might be muggle but for a young man of nineteen, they were all he had. Septimus left behind his world for the one of magic. He left behind a guaranteed spot on the Olympic swimming team and he left everything to become part of my life.

I stared at the face of the Chief. His dark eyes darkening even more as I let go if the shields in my mind. He let go of his as well. Where land met sea, we exchanged thoughts. The Chief needed to know what this boy means to me.

I shivered as he let in the reasons why he needed the boy. They were not reasons but rather carefully constructed arguments. I could not break eye contact with him as I watched Bellatrix spread her legs open for the man in front of me.

The feral screams both released as they came. I knew this was when Septimus was conceived. I looked on as a father watched from a distance as his son walked for the first time. This moment was so intimate and precious that I could not help but look on.

Abruptly the visions ended as quickly as they had started. The look the Mer gave was one of pain and absolute suffering. Not for the first time I questioned why I was here and what my husband's motives were.

As land met water and the salty smell of sea met the sweet but tangy flavour of land, I felt just as riddled. What did I go with? My heart wanted to stay but my mind knew the time for action had come.


	9. Chapter 9: First Love never Dies

**Chapter 9: First love never dies**

Searching for something more- something better is sometimes so difficult. My head is pounding and it has been three days since I last slept or showered. I would have stopped eating as well if my husband did not drag me down to the dining table.

He still cannot stand the sight of Sarah for more than a few minutes. I sort of understand why he does not even attempt to get along with her. She is not his, and he hates the poor child for that. As sad, as that seems my husband disliking my daughter is not the biggest issue in my life right now.

My office is, and it is overflowing with stacks of parchment. Septimus is sleeping on the couch and I have managed to sneak Hermione out for a couple of hours. It feels pretty damn amazing to have my best friend out with me for a few moments.

She looks much better after a shower. Her hair hangs in coils that an Irish dancer would kill to achieve. She still hates her hair and the black band suppressing her magic angers her. Hermione is amazing though.

She is busy handling a long and detailed set of magical policies. I take a breath to look at her. All over again I fall in love. It might be dishonest to my husband and the magic that ties us together but at a glance, I would throw it away. It seems like a lifetime ago that we were seventeen and naive. I would love to be that young and innocent again.

It is a lifetime ago and my life catches up to me. I just want to sleep it all and wakeup away from this journey called life. I do not feel like I am living. I am at the cusp of barely existing.

"You're not eating," Hermione states.

I look at her. Her brown eyes are filled with fire. She is not about to let this go. I beg her through my body language. I already have a controlling husband. Right now, I need her to be my best friend.

I shrug a reply. I have always been horrible at making up lies. I knew not how to speak in riddles and sly verses. Hermione does not need to know.

"Eat, you have to," Hermione pleads.

I look at her.

"I am just not hungry."

A second passes. It seems that time refuses to let go. She seems like she fighting something. I do not know whether it is fear or something more. Hermione froze. She pulls her face in concentration.

I drop my quill.

"Spetimus!" I find myself yelling. At once he responds. The young man tries to wipe all sleep away from his eyes. He tries to remain alert. If I fear did not consume me now, I would have just found it adorable.

At once, a crowd of elves surround me. Hermione lets out a shrill scream. The sound travels and before the echo leaves the room, another one is released quickly and the sound is just as shrill. The elves try to get close. Septimus looks at me. His eyes are filled with fear.

I just want to bring him into my arms and mumble that there is no need to worry. I do exactly that. I need the presence of another person. I lived in a big family. Things such as personal space did not exist and for once, I am grateful for the lack of personal space.

I circle my arms around his body and force him to rest his head against my shoulder. He is shivering and I can feel the goose flesh on my skin. I feel the need to stop this insanity crawling under my skin. I knew that there was only one way to top this. Only one-way to end it without driving everyone, I care about, away.

Hermione is not a monster or a demon. Her body is that of a magical being. Like any other person so intimate with their magic, she thrives off it. She lives to breathe and harness it. School was her escape. It allowed her magic to grow and spread in ways most men could only imagine.

All that is now closed because of the little, dark band circling her wrist. It taunts me with its presence. I know I have the power to take it off and make it go away. I have the power to let her escape at least this mental hell. Allowing her to do that will only encourage my husband's wrath.

Septimus makes an attempt to look up. I firmly but gently grasp the back of his head and stop the motion. It is not worth him seeing her like this. I muster my magic. I feel it calm Septimus and dull his senses. It puts him in a state of false feelings and calms him down. It is not right nor is it truthful but I must do this before I lose the only friend I have left.

I send my magic to the door and the runes on it immediately lock it from the inside. I do the same to the windows and dim the room. The only source of light is the fireplace. The setting is eerie but welcoming. I push one last bit of magic into Septimus and lull his mind into a gentle sleep. I shift him onto the couch.

The screams Hermione let out have placed red marks on her throat. The scratches across her pale arms or no different. I feel exhausted but I push through. The thought of losing Hermione scares me too much to let me give up.

I take her hands into my own.

She freaks out. Her body thrashes with no set direction. I push her to the wall. My conscience is ringing warning bells that I make a point to ignore. I will do anything to save her. Her back touches the wall and I push her down.

The pain of the stone wall against her back is something she barely notices. I place her arms above her head. My lips descend on hers.

Kissing her is glorious. Her lips are chapped but welcoming all the same. I pour my magic into the kiss. For me, contact, makes wandless magic so much more easier. The black band on her wrist snaps and almost instantly, I am hit with waves of her powerful magic.

I let it drive me as her body responds to my kiss. Her lips move against mine. My hold on her slackens and she brings her arms to circle against my back. We are closer than we have ever been. I let my tongue touch her lips. I knew she always liked it when I asked. She is calm and I do not want to end it.

This embrace that feels right. The softness of her chest and the beat of her steady heart always a beat faster than mine. Once upon a time, this was my dream. For us to look like this forever.

I let go first. I turn to the door. It is open and outside stands my husband. He is furious. My body is still pressed against hers- my first love's.

**A/N: I just want to thank every reader for taking a moment to read this. I know it is not everyone's glass of juice but thank you anyway.**


	10. Chapter 10: Jumbled Thoughts

**Chapter 10: Jumbled thoughts**

I kept my arms around Hermione even though I could feel his anger. It was hard to avoid. The magic simmered through the air in tight, controlled waves but I knew he was angry. His anger was something I thought I left behind the moment we made our vows. It seems like that was a long and distant dream.

"She was going crazy," I state simply.

There is no need to justify my actions. I will not, maybe kissing her was a little too much but there was nothing could do other than keep quiet. Anything else that I would say could only harm the situation.

His lazy drawl spoke out. He thought he sounded bored but all I heard was the deadly hissing undertones. "So this is how you stop it. With a sweet kiss? How nice."

The hate in his words would make any other man quake in fear. The good thing is, is that I am not just another man. I vowed in front of magic that I would not do that.

"I thought so too," I gave back the snarky remark. We both knew that now was not the time for broken and delicate souls.

I knew how to play the game just as well as he did. There are a few things I pick up from living with him. I feel Hermione's fear and I pull her closer to me. Any romantic intention between us evaporated from the moment he walked through the door.

"Send her back to the dungeons," he ordered. "Now! And for the sweet sake of Morgana get that band on her."

I eyebrows shot up until they almost flew off my face. Who the Hell did this man think he was to order me. I was not a woman or one of his inane followers to jump when he told me to. I was his husband. Under the eyes of Magic we were equal no matter our age or the binds that separate us from each other.

"Hermione, I am taking you to the guest room," I warned her.

This time my strong friend visibly shook. She did not want to go anywhere near him and being in the main house meant she could feel his presence all over the house without the black band.

"No, Ron. I can't. No!" the panic was clear in her voice.

"Breathe Hermes, I promise nothing will happen to you and Septimus will keep guard."

Hermione actually laughed. It was not her natural laugh. This one laugh was a high-pitched one and bordered insanity.

"No offence but Septimus wouldn't hurt a fly."

She carried on laughing and I knew that the control had left my side of the room. My husband stepped into my office. His thin frame filling the room in the most imposing of ways. He lifted up his wand. Faster than my eyes could keep track of, Hermione was rendered immobile.

Before I could even reach for my own wand I was under the Body-Bind Curse. I hated it losing control over my body but most of all losing control in front of him. I hated it. The fury of a thousand suns cannot stop my passion for such a hate.

Next moment all form of consciousness leaves me. The black that surrounds and dampens my senses is welcome. I have pushed my body to the edge and back. In the black pool I calm myself down and enjoy the feeling. I know this is the feeling of complete rest. No one is going to rush me out of this.

I dream for the first time in forever. I cannot help but think of nothing because for in here nothing matters. There is no killing of Harry or the Burrow. There are no people getting hurt or chiefs that need pleasing. All there is, is me in a room of my mind.

When I wake-up I find myself underneath the warm covers of my bedroom. No, not mine, ours. Sarah is curled up against, almost in foetal position. On the other side is my husband. His face looks impassive on the outside. His red eyes open and anger clouds them.

I smirk and allow Sarah to snuggle closer. He is not forgiven and if he has the right to take control of my life, my husband has something else coming his way. Life is not a game I will play his way.

I felt like a lazy day. I knew there was probably more than a month's worth of paperwork that needed doing in my room. The recent anger outburst had not helped matters at all. When the family business was politics there was no such thing as a holiday.

"I am not going to ask what you did with 'moine," I said.

He nodded and just brought his arms around me. My heart chose to melt at that moment. It was okay, for now, this was just fine. The sun had not risen yet but the candles that dotted the room burned merrily.

This was our life. I just missed certain things in my old life. I missed growing-up without responsibility or heart-ache. I missed playing Quiddich or going to the muggle village to fetch something as simple as string from the local convenience store.

"Why do you keep torturing yourself?" he asked. "Why? You see pain and the nostalgic look in your eyes kills me. Is our life not good enough? Hmm."

I did not know how to reply to that. The ability to use my words left me without seeing anything. I was grateful that he did not come into my mind and forcibly find out those answers for himself. I knew he could have just done that. Instead he wanted to slowly coax these answers from me.

He had hit the thought with an arrow of his own. I just did not know what to say.

It had been six months since Sarah was on my care. I liked life with her and my husband most of the time. I did not feel content though. I hadn't slept with my husband in ages. We were drifting further apart than ever before. It was only because I was too scared to talk.


	11. Chapter 11: You're my Blessing

**Chapter 11: You're my Blessing**

Words are almost never able to actually explain anything. They leave too many openings for interpretation. This is why I probably struggled with them all my life. Harry and Hermione were both naturals when it came to words. Harry, he could move an entire crowd with just a few expressions.

When we were young and rigid in our beliefs, never had we actually realised the power that words so easily wield. That is if used by the right person.

I never knew how to use my words. Out of all the Weasley brood, it was Percy who was gifted with the ability. Story-time with Percy always seemed more magical. He would rarely open a book but tell Ginny and me our favourites. The hero was always more handsome and the darkness more oppressive when Percy described the scene.

Mom also had the talent but it would be Percy who held the number one spot in my mind. His voice normally so boring and bland, would crackle with life. If Percy was not the biggest control-freak and perfectionist, he would have made a lot of money just on his voice alone. But my older brother was one of those poor souls who believed that only if something was worked for, only then could it be earned.

I missed him and my family. The one that oozed with light. I missed mom's voice and braiding Ginny's hair. I never thought there would be a day when I would be able to leave all that behind and move on. The thought scared me and frightened me. I was living without my original family.

I had a new one. A husband who understood me most of the time and one beautiful daughter. My life did not look perfect but that was the beauty of it. No one had to understand.

My Lord opens his red eyes. On his pale skin there is something both beautiful and terrifying about the way he looks. Sarah left a while ago to sleep in her room. She would have stayed longer on any other day. It bothered me that she thought that she had to escape.

I felt his mind gently probe mine. Sometimes this was better than talking. Allowing his to look into my mind isn't my idea of a conversation but for the sake of honesty it is the best we can do. I turn and look into those cherry eyes. Without hesitating I bring my body to straddle his. In a couple of moments I feel the familiar, tingling sensation of magic cleaning my teeth. I smile, my first smile that holds nothing but joy, but I am still not sure what to do.

The most logical option would be to go for a kiss. It has been ages since we have shared anything but a peck on the cheeks. I can't stand it any longer and aim for a kiss on a piece of exposed neck. My hands just under my mouth. They work quickly to undo the buttons on his night-robes. The process overall is a slow one. My lips barely do more than flutter on his skin. The sweat that builds up on his skin is the only indication that he is affected. Not a single sound passes from his thin lips. His making me work for it, work hard enough to make him sing for me. I don't need him to sing or do anything of that sort. I just need him to be there and to feel him because as hard as it is, I can't bare to lose him. Dumbledore was right, at the end of it all, love is the strongest kind of magic there is. Yes, even love fused with carnal pleasure that one feels from the flesh.

I kiss my way back up and focus on his nipples. Small, brown and perfectly proportioned disks of colour that lay on his otherwise pale chest. I press my mouth gently over them.

A gasp.

It is what I've been waiting for. I look up into those alcoholic eyes. Those eyes that are my sole addiction. They laugh and are underlined with a sprinkle of mischief. In the fleeting moments in which our eyes lock I see into his mind and pull back in shock. There is feeling there. A feeling that makes my heart drop with dread and bubble with excitement all at once.

His memory was the first time we made love. Not had sex. The sex had been there for a while but the first time we honestly made love to each other stopped my heart. He was slow but no less diligent. His sole focus was me and all I remember from that experience, was the morning after. The day that the ache that shot up my back was something I would wear with pride instead of fear. The first time we woke up with our legs intertwined and my body on top of his. I looked into those eyes and watched with curiosity at how he saw it.

His unfiltered adoration as I came undone from his hands and mouth. The pride he felt when I begged for him to go harder, deeper and faster.

He could have blocked those thoughts from me. He knew that my loyalty to him was a hard earned victory. I thought I looked like a mess but I remember how much I liked it the next morning. The blossomed hickeys scattered aimlessly across my neck and chest.

Those wine-coloured eyes hid nothing today. I broke contact with him and those hypnotic eyes. I am especially careful not to leave bruising of any kind on his milk-coloured skin. I can't help but worship him at this point. We assault each other with memories and emotions. Breaking down the mental barrier the quickest way we knew how. I moved my body higher to capture his lips between my teeth.

The thin lips that landed on my plump ones. I pressed never seeking for more than what he was willing to give. He pushed his body up and pressed his hands against my face. His back was supported by the headboard. I let him lead me to another reality. One were the only thing that mattered was our lips pressed together. Slowly I moved my lips against his.

The friction left warm tingles on my lips and I wanted more. His hands dug into my hair. Thin, bony fingers encased in red locks. The kiss turned into an open mouthed one. Our tongues touching but not looking for dominance. Not yet, it was too soon.

The lazy waltz between our tongues as they touched for a few moments before going to explore. It did not feel like our first time but in a few ways it was special to me. There was no fighting but tender caresses. His hands crept lower and he whispered a spell.

My lips left his as I let out a moan. My neck pulled backwards and the sound left me breathless. The spell was familiar companion. The rest of our clothes disappeared. I felt stretched and the cold, slippery feeling of lubricant lined the passage of my hole. Although only a while ago I felt no need for sex my cock looked angry and red now.

It begged to be touched and I needed to be filled.

"Shh," he whispered into my ear.

He shifted until his cock rubbed against my ass. I whined and rubbed against him to build some friction for the desperate release that I wanted. I couldn't wait long enough, my hand grabbed both our dicks and with harsh choppy motions rubbed. His lips found mine and our hands intertwined.

Tiny rivulets of clear fluid eased out from the top. I wanted so badly to get away but losing all this pleasure seemed like too great a price to pay.

He was even more impatient than I was. He used his body to flip us over. Now he was on top and kissed his way down my neck. My back fell into an arch. I clutched the bedsheets in desperation. My knuckles turned almost transparent.

I could feel the pearls of sweat run down my body.I wanted him closer and although my hands did not seem to want to move I did the next best thing. A chorus of "Please." Left my mouth.

He smiled and entered me slowly. The burn of being breached and stretched hurt like no other. It never got easier no matter how many times I did it. I breathed through the pain and turned my head away from the kisses that he wanted to rain down onto my skin.

I needed the pain to go away. Every time I do this, I hiss in pain and vow never again to go through this. This torture combined with lust that pushes me. I focus on his breathing and the sharp puffs of air that exit his nostrils. One of my hands go to my aching cock. With slow but steady movements, I stroke it.

He pulls out, the head of his cock teases my entrance before plunging in and sending another shot of pain shoots up my spine before it is overcome by pleasure. This is why I do this. Our eyes lock and the intensity that shines through them makes me shoot my load all over my stomach. The release is a welcome one and with a couple more thrusts, a scream and a flood of magic that shakes the room he becomes undone.

His body collapses on mine. I sniff the air, salty sweat, seed and magic fill my nostrils.

I know that this is not the solution to any of our problems but for now it is enough. As the smell of us lingers in the air, I find both comfort and sleep in his arms.


	12. Chapter 12: New Eyes

**Chapter 12: New Eyes**

I can clearly remember the first time I went clubbing. It was stupid, very stupid. Harry insisted that he wanted to live life before he died. No that he said it in too many words. We got dressed up in our best. Being on the run was difficult, there was no money to spare.

Going to anyone to ask for money would reflect badly on our non-existent money management skills. It seemed like a great idea. It symbolized the first time I cast an Unforgivable. The simpleness of the spell never really phased me until that moment. We were under-aged and desperate for anyone who would want us.

Our first night of casual debauchery. For a few moments I felt normal. Being on the run does that to people. It forced me to appreciate the simpleness of an uncomplicated life. I remember it all well enough. The salty sweat that hung in the air. A electronic bass that Hermione easily swayed to. The girls that fell for the bat of Harry's eyelashes.

We did not bother to hide anything. We walked into the club as Harry, Ron and Hermoine. The thrill of tempting Fate to do more than just sit and watch. I enjoyed it. The sharp and awakening taste of alcohol and brightly colored drinks that had exotic labels. The feeling of youth thrived and manifested that night.

I found myself being entertained by more than just the liquids. I never found out the name of the boy whose lips found mine that night. His soft, pillow-like lips with the perfect pout. I knew he was a model. He carried himself like one of the veela. So sure of his beauty that he did not have to even try. I was mesmerized by the interest he showed me. The club had no boundaries and I let him dance with me. There was no rhythm just the simple need of body on body. He was the first male I looked at with more than just friendship. He did not ask for more than that night. He danced as I danced. He matched my drinks shot for shot and that night I drew closer to him and he took me home.

The curve of his shoulder as I removed his mesh shirt, was my favourite moment of that encounter. It was plain, warm skin dotted with moles. I ran my tongue and kept worshiping those shoulders. He was strong and stable. He left my blood pumping and cheeks stained. It was more than alcohol that night. I was tired of existing and wanted to live. I wanted more than what I had. I needed that selfish moment. I pulled back my neck as he licked a stripe over my throat before meeting my mouth with a kiss.

I unbuckled his jeans and popped the top button. I barely paid attention as he did the same for me. I shoved my hand down his jeans while the other tangled with his hair. The fibers of hair were rough against my fingers. I stroked and watched his face contort with lust and a mixture of other emotions...excitement with a dash of fear? Over his boxers I could feel him harden beneath my fingers. I had done this to myself many a time but at this point I had no idea the pleasure it would bring to another. Sure Hermione and I had a shag every now and again but this somehow felt more right than any of our immature fumbling.

I never felt so much emotion without putting my life in danger. My body sang for him and I became undone almost as soon as he dropped down onto his knees. He made quick work of my pants pulling them down until they reached my knees. He held my balls and weighed then in his palm. He looked up and all I saw was eyes blown black with lust. This was all I wanted. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. A shuddered breath left my mouth as he gently blew against my aching cock. My hands tangled into those course hay locks. He measured himself and took his sweet time. First he wrapped a condom around my aching cock. The stupid barrier piece felt uncomfortable but I knew I was not going to get anything if I protested against this. Muggles in a way were amazing. The thought of a way around everything and one of those annoying things was the invention of condoms.

His tongue and teeth gently teased my slightly deflated cock. My hands tightened their hold in his hair and I groaned my pleasure as silently as possible. The pressure built up and he did not stop. I think for his it was all a walk in the park. He looked just as lonely as I had felt. I tried to warn him when I was about to release cum. It only seemed like the right thing to do but he gripped my hips to still them and swirled his tongue on the head of my cock before pulling off.

"I want to see you finish yourself off without that latex," he whispered into my ear. His voice was grainy and rough probably from smoking. He pulled my down onto my knees and ripped the condom off. I stroked myself to completion and moaned the closer I got to falling apart. It was nice to able to trust a total stranger.

He let me cuddle with him as we fell asleep on his dingy floor mattress. His hands on my waist and his soap left a distinct smell under my skin. We woke up our mouths finding each other for one last lazy kiss before I had to leave. I think he understood just as much as I did that we both were not in the best shape to have a relationship right now.

This was three weeks before Milord found us and stripped away our last pieces of innocence.

I look outside the window of my office and come to a decision. I was going to give him the ultimatum. I was tired of his behavior and him not listening to me. I was exhausted from it all, I had enough of this relationship and I wanted out.


End file.
